


Gods au go brrr

by Kyber



Series: who needs therapy when you’ve got sbi fanfic [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Character Death, Dont have much written yet but I have l o r e, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Non-Chronological, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Techno is blood god, Trans Floris | Fundy, Why does Sally not have a character tag, adding tags as I go, and Phil is god prime, and why is Wilbur/Sally not a relationship tag, is pog, so hopefully more is on the way, wilbur is nature god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyber/pseuds/Kyber
Summary: A non-chronological collection of drabbles and scenes from my sleepy bois inc as gods au
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: who needs therapy when you’ve got sbi fanfic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103558
Comments: 90
Kudos: 322





	1. Technoblade’s Beginning

The child knew very little from his eight lonely years of life, but what he did know was this: He was called Technoblade, and the voices were called Chat. He could not say how he knew this, but he was as certain of these facts as he was that he must breathe air. 

Chat was not kind, but they were his only companions. So he did what they said. Sometimes they were helpful, pointing him in the direction of berry bushes or running water or dry caves that he would have never found otherwise. Often they would get him into trouble, but he was never led so far astray that he could not live to tell the tale. Not that he had anyone to tell the tale to, other than Chat. 

The voices that comprised chat were fickle, and often disagreed amongst themselves. The only thing they could always agree upon without fail was that they wished for Blood. Technoblade preferred when they were joined towards a common goal, so he tried to provide the Blood they craved. They were never satisfied, but a chorus of _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ was much easier to think through than the dissonance when they shouted conflicting advice over each other. 

He had become very talented at crushing small creatures with his fists or tearing into larger ones with his teeth. He even started to make tools to aid him in giving Chat their Blood. His favorite was Sharp Stick, which he had fashioned from a branch. He had based it on the Men and Women he sometimes saw who had Sharp Sticks made of stone. 

Technoblade used to cry when he ended creatures’ lives so brutally, but he got over it when he heard how content Chat could be. Once, when there were no animals nearby and Chat was so loud they brought tears to his eyes, Technoblade tried to quench them with his own Blood. He ripped into his arm with his teeth, shocking Chat into a brief moment of silence. The familiar chanting started up as he hoped it would, but it was cut through with even louder voices asking why he would do that and demanding he bandage it. It had only made the chaos in his head worse. Technoblade didn’t try it again. 

The loudest they had ever been was when he saw a Man in green fabric walking through the trees. He had some sort of cloth bowl with white and green stripes on his head, and his straw colored hair was in a strange knot. Technoblade wondered, briefly, if it would be as long as his when untied. 

However the strangest thing about the Man was the pair of glowing wings upon his back. Technoblade thought for a moment that they might be from some very large bird he had killed, but then they fluttered and he realized they were attached. None of the Men he had seen before possessed such wings. None of them had possessed tusks like Technoblade either, and he wondered if this strange Man might be able to hear Chat. 

Chat began a cry of _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ as it usually did when he saw something living. But this Man was much larger than Technoblade and had a Sharp Stick of his own on his hip made of some shiny blue rock. Technoblade did not think he could cause the Man to lose enough Blood to satisfy Chat, and then also escape without losing his own Blood. 

He started to walk away but Chat _screeched_ at him and he stumbled before quickly turning back around. He could handle losing Blood, he could not handle Chat’s screams. If he was quick and quiet, perhaps he could surprise the Man and overpower him. So Technoblade silently climbed a tree and readied his Sharp Stick. With nary a whisper of the wind, he leapt at the Man. 

The Man caught him out of the air like a leaf. 

Technoblade hung frozen in the Man’s grasp. This had never happened before. Chat themselves seemed at a loss for what to say, aside from exclamations of surprise. So Technoblade simply stared with wide eyes as the Man directed his icy blue gaze at him. 

“Why do you attack me, Child?” 

His voice was even as he spoke, as if the answer did not particularly concern him, and he only asked out of politeness. Technoblade, still shaken, could only give him the reason his Chat always demanded he attack. 

“Blood for the Blood God.”

He did not know what a Blood God was, but perhaps the Man did, for his impassive face softened when he blinked in surprise.

“The Blood God?”

Technoblade simply stared. The Man gently set him down and Technoblade could think to do nothing else than sit where he was and look up at him. The Man crouched down until he was eye level with Technoblade. This time when he asked a question, he seemed to be interested in the answer. 

“Do you know who the Blood God is?”

Technoblade tuned into Chat for a moment to see if they had any help, but they simply chanted _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_. He shook his head. The Man was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. 

“Little One, I think it is you.”

Chat was quiet. 

“Me?”

The Man smiled kindly as he tucked Technoblade’s hair behind his ear. 

“Come, Child. We shall see.”

He extended his hand, and with Chat’s encouragement, Technoblade took it.


	2. Wilbur’s Beginning

Wilbur had Dreams. 

This in itself was not unusual, most people had dreams after all. But Wilbur did not have the typical dreams of a child. He saw no fantastical dragons, lands made of candy, or piles of puppies. What Wilbur saw were very mundane scenes. Him tripping over a branch and scraping an elbow, his father coming home from the village with a new saddle, the chickens only laying two eggs instead of three or four. They were the kind of Dreams that would have been completely boring and unremarkable, except for one simple fact. They always came true the next day. 

Well, not quite always. The blurrier a Dream was, the better chance Wilbur had of changing it. If he could only make out a shadow of a woman breaking her neck after falling off something indistinct, then he’d be able to convince his mother to do the roof repairs tomorrow instead. But if he could clearly see every detail of his father burning his hand on the cauldron, then he had no chance of preventing it, however he tried. 

The people of the village were wary of Wilbur, believing he had been touched by a Spirit or a God. They could never agree whether it was a Blessing or a Curse he had been given. His family did not acknowledge his Dreams, except to heed his warnings. Wilbur himself didn’t think too hard on it. He knew his Dreams came true, and that was enough. 

So when he woke one day from a vision, clear as day, that he would be taken away by God Prime? Well, he packed his bags. 

His parents protested when he said goodbye, but they quieted when he told them he had Dreamed it would be so. Wilbur promised he would visit if he could, but he didn’t know if it would be possible. He would ask God Prime when he met him. Wilbur’s parents had no response to that. 

Wilbur walked through the forest, looking up at the golden light filtering between the leaves. A squirrel leapt through the branches above him, startling a blue jay. Wilbur smiled as he kicked at the ground. Wherever he was being taken, he hoped he could still take walks in the woods. 

Eventually, he made it to a familiar clearing. He had never been there before, but he had Seen that God Prime would be there, so he sat on the ground to wait. Sure enough, within a few minutes, there was a green glow and a blond man with wings appeared out of thin air. He looked at Wilbur, who stood up to greet him. 

“Hello!”

“Hello Child. Why are you here?”

“I Saw that you would take me today.”

God Prime raised an eyebrow. 

“You saw? Do you know who I am?”

“I do. You are God Prime, and in my Dream you took me away. I don’t know why, but my Dreams never lie.”

God Prime chuckled and held out his hand. 

“Well then, Little One. Let us go.”

Wilbur, confident from his visions, took his hand.


	3. Technoblade’s Beginning Pt. 2

Technoblade walked with the strange Man for only a few moments before a glow encompassed them and they were no longer in the forest. He paused, looking around in wonder at the cavernous room he found himself in. 

The floors were made of a smooth stone with swirling patterns like that of the night sky, or a river, or an eye. Large columns with ornate carvings towered high above him, reaching up to meet a domed ceiling. Technoblade couldn’t make out exactly what was on the ceiling, but there seemed to be some sort of scene painted on, or perhaps laid in with stone. There were hallways in the distance that led to other platforms, but Technoblade could see no walls anywhere. Everything was opened to the bright blue sky. If he looked down, Technoblade could see fluffy clouds stretching as far as the eye could see, like moss upon the forest floor. 

He looked up at the Man with wide eyes. The Man chuckled softly. 

“It is beautiful, is it not?”

Technoblade nodded. 

“Do you know who I am, Child?”

“No.”

“The mortals know me as God Prime. I am ruler of the worlds, its creatures, and their souls. I Know all, and can do what I wish with the inhabitants of this universe. Do you understand?”

Technoblade gulped. He did understand. He had attacked this Man— this God— and now he must face his punishment. He nodded fearfully. 

“Be calm, Child. I am not angry with you. You did not know. I will not harm you more than is necessary.”

Technoblade’s limbs trembled, and he realized he was still holding God Prime’s hand. He didn’t want to let go, unsure if that would anger him further. 

“How much is necessary?”

God Prime smiled kindly, though it did not quell Technoblade’s fear. 

“I must Claim you. It will be unbearable, but it will pass. Then you will not know pain again.”

God Prime let go of him to place both hands upon his face before Technoblade could pull away. For a moment there was nothing, but then an explosion of light came from the God as his appearance changed, and Technoblade wondered how he could have ever thought him a mere Man. 

The green glow of God Prime’s wings spread throughout his whole body as two more pairs of wings burst from his back. A blindingly bright, white ring of light appeared behind his head and his eyes glowed with the same brilliance, drowning out his pupils and irises. The knot his hair was in came undone as his hair flowed in nonexistent wind.

Technoblade barely had the time to process this change before agonizing pain swept through his body, radiating from the hands upon his face. Boiling lava burned through his veins, explosions burst his organs, needles replaced his nerve endings, his bones splintered and disintegrated. Chat joined him in screaming with pain, his voice going hoarse almost immediately from the force of his cries. 

Technoblade was much too far gone to notice the pink light shining from his eyes and mouth as he howled towards the heavens. 

Finally, what could have been years or seconds later, Technoblade slipped into sweet oblivion. God Prime gently scooped him into his arms to carry him into the resting chambers. 

He left the child’s shattered mortal body on the floor behind him.


	4. Technoblade’s Beginning Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I HAD A TYPO IN THE CHAPTER TITLE (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

Technoblade woke on the softest thing he had ever touched. He melted into the material below him, wondering how in the Overworld anything could be this comfortable. 

“We are not in the Overworld, My Child.”

Technoblade’s eyes blinked open and he saw God Prime smiling down at him. He was not as bright as he had been before Technoblade passed out, but he still glowed in the same way and he still had the physical changes. 

As Technoblade remembered what had happened, he realized with a start that he was not in pain. Not even the soreness from old bruises and scrapes that he was used to feeling. 

“What happened?”

“I Claimed you. Now you are my child.”

Technoblade blinked. “Oh.”

“Come. You have not bathed properly before.”

Technoblade followed him out of the room. He didn’t ask how the God Knew he had never bathed except fleetingly in a river. He was God Prime, he Knew everything. 

He was led to a large basin of sparkling blue water, clearer than anything he had ever seen before. Steam rolled off the surface, and he could see something shimmering at the bottom. He followed God Prime’s example and undressed to step into the basin. He was surprised by the pattern of thick, pink lines across his skin, and when he looked up he saw that God Prime had similar patterns in green. They weren’t painful, so he ignored Chat’s questions and let it be for now. 

Technoblade’s muscles relaxed immediately as he submerged himself in the boiling water. He— and a few members of Chat— had the distant thought that this heat should be painful, but he was too drowsy from the calming scents to worry too much about it. 

God Prime maneuvered him so that his back was towards him, and gently ducked the younger’s head under the water. Technoblade went along willingly, limbs too loose from the water to protest. He melted even further into God Prime’s touch when he started to run his fingers through Technoblade’s long, pink hair, massaging his scalp and carefully unraveling the many tangles. 

Technoblade didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up on the soft platform again, swathed in some sort of clean, silky fabric. He was curled against something warm, and a large hand slowly pet his hair. Technoblade opened his eyes to see God Prime above him, reading a book. The God looked down at him with a soft expression in his glowing eyes. Technoblade smiled contentedly. 

“Hello, Little One.”

“Hi.”

“What is your name, My Child?”

Technoblade blinked languidly. Couldn’t God Prime just Know?

“I am omniscient if I wish to be, but I find it makes for better conversation when I only Know what I need to.”

Oh. 

“My name is Technoblade.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Technoblade. You may call me Phil.”

“Okay.” Technoblade snuggled further into Phil’s lap, encouraging him to keep petting his hair. Chat clamored with demands to know if Phil could hear them. 

“Can you hear Chat?”

“Chat?”

“The voices.” Technoblade gestured vaguely towards his head, and Phil nodded in understanding. 

“I could, if I tried, but no. They are yours alone.”

“Oh.”

Phil set his book to the side, giving Technoblade his full attention as he saw the child’s disappointment. 

“I suspect, My Child, that Chat is part of your divinity. I Know, and you Hear.”

Technoblade blinked. 

“What does that mean?”

“Listen, Technoblade. Pay attention to what you can Hear.”

Technoblade did as he asked, closing his eyes as his ears twitched. There was Chat, as there always was, but Technoblade realized with surprise that some of the voices he now heard weren’t the familiar tones of Chat. In fact, they seemed to have nothing to do with him. 

_“That will never work, they’ve clearly set up an ambush around this hill.” “Even if they have, we have the superior manpower. Look at the map, if we flank them here...”_

_“Every man, woman, and child will be slaughtered here tonight!l_

_“You would betray me, my oldest and dearest friend?” “You have kept me from power for too long, my liege. The revolution will have your head.”_

_“Attack!”_

_“They’re breaking rank!”_

_“Leave me, I can’t go on. You must save yourself.”_

_“By the mercy of God Prime, it’s a massacre.”_

Technoblade’s eyes opened wide as he stared up at Phil. He could Hear the battles and fights of the entire world, and somehow he knew where he could find each of them as well. Chat started chanting in his head, whipped into a frenzy by the prospect of Blood whenever they wished. 

“I can Hear them. I can Hear all of them, dying and killing and fighting.”

“I thought as much.”

“How?”

“Come.”

Phil gently moved him to stand up, and Technoblade quickly scrambled off the soft platform to follow him, his previous drowsiness completely evaporated by burning curiosity. They only took a few steps across the room to stop in front of a flat, reflective sheet of metal. Technoblade looked at the metal and froze. He had seen his reflection in pools before, but he had never looked like this. The pink hair and tusks were still there, and he was certainly the same size and shape as before but... his eyes shone like Phil’s. A soft pink light radiated out from his body and upon his head was a glowing boar skull. Technoblade reached out to touch the metal, then touched his face, to prove it was really him. As he moved, he noticed skeletal wings move with him. He looked behind him and there they were, growing out of his back. 

Technoblade looked up at Phil in wonder. 

“Why...?” He trailed off, and Phil smiled as he put his hand on Technoblade’s shoulder. 

“You are the Blood God now, My Child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stg if any of you take the bath scene as anything remotely sexual I WILL light you on fire. It is father👏son👏bonding👏
> 
> Thank you, that is all


	5. Cruelty of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of a lore piece than an actual scene

Many would say the Blood God is the cruelest of divine beings. It’s understandable, considering his domain is war and bloodshed. He is the one called upon when thousands are sent to die. 

But mortals are the ones who start their battles, not the Blood God. Technoblade enjoys killing, but he sees no point in drawing it out. He does his Godly duties, and then he goes home to read a book, or work on his farm. 

Others would argue that God Prime is the cruelest, for allowing suffering to exist at all. He is the ruler of all realms and creatures, surely he could do away with pain entirely. 

And they’re right, he could. He could also do away with free will. For as long as mortals can make decisions, they will make the wrong ones. No, Phil likes the mortals how they are, flaws and suffering all. 

Some, on the other hand, would say the Wild God is the cruelest. He may be ruler of trees and flowers, but he is also ruler of hurricanes and volcanoes. 

Phil and Technoblade would agree. 

Wilbur has a longer fuse than Technoblade, but when he loses his temper he does not calm down as quickly as his brother. He will meticulously plan your punishment to be as long, and painful, and grueling as possible. Wilbur does not forgive, and he does not forget. 

But it takes a lot to anger Wilbur, since the odds are he knew what you were going to do before you did. No, what truly makes him a cruel God is his games. He likes to take a group of mortals (usually a hundred, he thinks it’s a nice, round number) and whisk them away into a pocket dimension specially made for the occasion. He’ll give them some sort of task or challenge, with the promise to release them if they play along. Sometimes he’ll keep his word for the winner, or one that particularly amuses him, but usually no one survives. Occasionally Technoblade will join him, or even Phil. Tommy, once he is Claimed, enjoys Wilbur’s games. But most of the time it is just Wilbur and his Spirit JoshA20. 

Not to say the other Gods aren’t cruel in their own right. No, they would stop Wilbur’s games if they were truly benevolent. The truth of the matter is, all the Gods are cruel. Most Spirits as well. They are kind when it pleases them, but do not overly concern themselves with the needs of mortals unless it is entertaining. 

One could argue their cruelty is their kindness. Wilbur would. After all, mortals are far more horrified by the prospect of an indifferent God than a malevolent God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If JoshA20 isn’t the name of Wilbur’s 100 player server mod then it’s NixQuinnIsRoyalty’s fault. Go yell at them on their fanfic (or just read their fanfic. advertising friends pog)


	6. Clay’s Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay came out here to have a good time and he’s honestly feeling so attacked rn

Clay was an average boy, once. He liked chasing his friends through the woods, playing at war with sticks and pretend crossbows. They’d stay out all day, only coming home to hide from the monsters and wash the mud out their scrapes. Their parents would hug and scold them in equal measure, and then they’d go out the next day to do it all again.

Clay thought all his friends were fun, but his favorite was the boy in the woods. He didn’t know where the boy came from, where he lived, or who his family was. All he knew was that his name was Technoblade, and if Clay called his name in the forest, he’d come to play. 

Technoblade was a strange boy. The only person Clay had ever met who had pink hair, or tusks. He was very stoic for a child, never complaining and rarely showing strong emotion, except for satisfaction when he fought. Clay had asked once if he was a demigod, and Technoblade had laughed before telling him no. He never lied, but something about that answer rang false. 

He dressed strangely too, wearing an old fashioned tunic beneath a regal cloak. There was a gold crown perched atop his head which, along with the cloak, he never took off. Whenever Clay asked about them, Technoblade would simply smile between his sharp tusks and push him to the ground to wrestle. 

Technoblade was rougher than Clay’s other friends. He’d fight more seriously, pulling no punches and softening no blows. The other kids they played with soon grew wary of him, opting not to challenge Technoblade, but Clay kept coming back. He didn’t have quite the same bloodlust as his friend, but he could admit he enjoyed a dirty fight. Besides, the more he fought with Technoblade, the better he got. Soon enough, the boy from the woods started teaching him how to properly use real weapons as well. When he offered to take Clay monster hunting in the night, Clay eagerly agreed. He may have gotten a few arrows and bites, but Clay had never felt better than when he survived till morning. 

One day, Technoblade came to him with a serious expression and told him to come further into the woods to a certain spot. Clay did as he asked, wondering if he might finally learn something personal about the boy. In the clearing he was led to, another boy with a yellow sweater and curly brown hair tucked into a beanie sat tuning a guitar. He looked up with a smile and set the instrument aside. 

“Hello! You must be Clay. Techno told me about you.” 

Clay glanced to his friend who cleared his throat. 

“This is my brother Wilbur. He wanted to meet you.”

Clay looked back to Wilbur with interest. Technoblade had mentioned in passing that he had a brother and a father, but would never say any more about them. Clay hadn’t even known his brother’s name before now. They didn’t look much alike, but he knew sometimes adults would take in children not related to them. Perhaps that had happened with one of the brothers. 

“Well you’ve been spending so much time with him! I wanted to see what the big deal was!” 

Wilbur looked Clay up and down. He seemed harmless, acting friendly enough, but something about his gaze seemed to pierce through to Clay’s soul. He shifted uncomfortably as Technoblade shrugged. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Hm.” Wilbur turned fully to Clay, meeting his eyes with such intensity that he couldn’t look away if he tried. “How did you befriend him?”

Technoblade didn’t speak, and Clay realized he was meant to answer. 

“Uh... I fought him?”

Wilbur held his stare for a moment more before laughing. All the tension dissipated and Clay relaxed muscles he hadn’t even known were tensed. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it!”

The three of them hung out and talked for a while more, Wilbur acting like a normal child the entire time. Clay left that evening wondering if he had imagined the interaction at the start of the day. 

He didn’t see Wilbur often, but after that first meeting he would join them on occasion. He was much more interested in exploring the woods than he was in sparring with them, but at Technoblade’s request he would laughingly give them battle music to accompany their fights. He wasn’t as stoic as Technoblade, but something about him was more aloof. Sometimes Wilbur would act as if Clay couldn’t think for himself, before snapping back to being friendly at a well placed elbow from his brother. Clay noticed that, a bit similar to Technoblade, Wilbur was never seen without his beanie or sweater. It wasn’t until years later that he found out why. 

Clay was nearly a full grown man now, but Technoblade and Wilbur still seemed... young. He had long ago given up worrying too much about their eccentricities though, and so was surprised when they both pulled him aside with the promise of revealing the truth to him. Clay followed them, excitement growing as they walked further into the woods. It was almost dusk when they stopped. The brothers exchanged a glance, and removed their beanie and crown. 

Clay’s eyes widened as colored light washed over him from his friends. Upon Technoblade’s head was a pink boar skull, and poking out of Wilbur’s curls were golden antlers. These... were not mortals. 

“Are— are you Spirits?”

They smiled in amusement. Technoblade removed his cloak, allowing skeletal wings like that of a dragon to unfurl from his back. They glowed in the same pink as the skull. Wilbur, meanwhile, took off his sweater to reveal golden glowing eyes floating around his torso. 

“No, Clay,” Technoblade said. “We are Gods.”

Clay stumbled back a half step with a pale expression. From anyone else he might think it was some sort of trick or joke but... if he was honest with himself, the brothers had never seemed fully human. The evidence was right in front of his eyes. 

“My Lords, I—“

“No need, Clay. We have been friends for much of your life. You needn’t defer to us like other mortals do.”

“Well,” Wilbur (Wild God?) muttered. “He can defer to me if he likes.”

Technoblade (holy shit, Clay’s best friend is the Blood God isn’t he) shot his brother an exasperated look before turning back to Clay. 

“You will not be leaving here a mortal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am going to Claim you. Or you’re going to die.”

“There’s a high chance he’ll die even if you claim him,” Wilbur interjected with an almost bored expression. 

“It’s not that high.”

“It’s pretty high!” 

Clay’s hands trembled as the Gods turned to argue with each other over his continued existence. He didn’t know what was going on, but he silently prayed to God Prime (his friend’s father apparently???) that he might live to see his sister. 

“He doesn’t have any divinity, Techno. Or any ability at all. I don’t understand why you’re trying to Claim him as a Spirit instead of an immortal. Or just letting him live out the rest of his mortal life!”

“He’s a warrior, he’s not gonna last a century without getting stabbed. And you know how fleeting mortal lives are, Wil.”

Clay spoke up with a shaky voice, mind too frantic to consider whether interrupting two Gods was a wise decision. 

“Do I get a say in any of this?”

Wilbur glanced at him with an almost condescending look. 

“Not really, no.”

Technoblade huffed a little, turning to look at Clay with a kinder expression. Though, still not quite warm. It was closer to the kind of face a doctor made when they had to tell you a family member was dead, but they still had other patients to worry about. 

“You know the true names of two Gods,” he explained. “We can not allow them to become common knowledge amongst mortals. I can Claim you and you will have a 50/50 chance of becoming a Spirit or dying—“

“More like 30/70,” Wilbur said under his breath.

“Shut up,” Technoblade hissed before addressing Clay again. “Or I can simply kill you. It will be painless. Being Claimed will not be.”

Clay swallowed. That wasn’t really much of a choice.

“I suppose I’d like to be Claimed.”

“Very well.”

Technoblade stepped forward, and Clay forced himself not to flinch back as the God held Clay’s face in his hands. The pink glow spread to cover Technoblade in full, and his eyes disappeared in the glow of white (very pale pink?) light. Agonizing pain shot through Clay’s body from where the God touched him and he cried out, grasping Technoblade’s arms on instinct. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Acid replaced the blood in his veins, his flesh felt as though it were splitting apart. His vision wavered and the pain lingered so he barely noticed when it stopped, allowing him to collapse to the ground and clutch at his burning face. 

As the throbbing pain slowly left him, he could hear the Gods conversing again. 

“I told you he wasn’t suited for divinity.”

“Well he hasn’t been destroyed, has he?”

“Yes, but he’s not supposed to look like _that_. You sure he’ll stay a Spirit?”

“... It doesn’t seem to be spreading.”

“It’s not going away either.”

“He can live with it.”

“And if he can’t?”

“We can always ask Dad to kill him. Or he can ask Dad himself.”

There was a pause. Clay managed to open his eyes enough to see a bleary image of the Gods standing above him. They didn’t seem to notice he was awake as he blinked to clear his vision. Or they didn’t care. 

“I suppose you’re right. So what’s his divine name?”

“Uh...”

“You didn’t come up with a name, did you?”

“I mean—“

“Seriously? You know Spirits don’t have predetermined names! Ugh, you know what, his name’s—“ There was a pause, then Wilbur seemed to say the first thing that came to mind. “Dream.”

“Heh? Dreams are your thing, I’m the one that Claimed him!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Technoblade didn’t respond. 

“That’s what I thought. He’s Dream. Any objections?”

Wilbur looked down at Clay— Dream?— with an annoyed expression. He tried to speak, coughed, and tried again. 

“I— I guess not.”

“Great, I’m going home.” Wilbur walked away, addressing Technoblade over his shoulder. “Have fun with your new Spirit!”

Technoblade huffed, watching his brother leave before offering a hand to Cla— Dream. Dream took it and shakily rose to his feet. The pain was gone now, but he felt as though he’d just sprinted up a mountain. 

“So... my name is Dream now?”

“Yes. You can tell other Spirits to call you Clay if you want, but don’t reveal your true name to mortals. And don’t reveal someone else’s true name.”

“Noted. Can I ask why?”

“Mortals pray, yeah? If they pray using your divine name you can hear them, but you don’t have to listen if you don’t want to. If someone prays using your true name, however, you have to listen to them, even if you don’t grant their wish. It’s physically impossible to ignore a prayer with your true name.”

“Oh.” So Dream was nearly killed by his best friend to avoid... being annoyed. Good to know. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Alright. You can come to the Heavens if you want. There should be a spare bedroom somewhere until you can make your own home.”

“I think I’d rather go home to my family for now.”

Technoblade shrugged. 

“Okay. You should probably look in a mirror first though. Oh and about ten, maybe fifteen, years have passed.”

Technoblade disappeared in a burst of pink light, leaving Dream reeling. Ten or fifteen years? Ten or fifteen fucking years!? Gods above, his sister would be an adult! What if his parents were dead? What if his friends were dead? And what did he mean _you should look in a mirror_!? 

Dream thought he might be sick. 

He managed to keep the contents of his stomach down (how was anything in his stomach if over a decade had passed? Actually, that was the least of his concerns.) and stumbled over to a convenient pool of water nearby. Did they bring him to a clearing with a pond on purpose? It was a distinct possibility, considering Wilbur was apparently the Wild God and could therefore See all future events. By the Spirits, Dream had been fighting the fucking Blood God for most of his childhood. Holy shit. And wait a second, if he swore by the Spirits was he now swearing by himself? 

Dream shook his head, resolving to just look at his reflection before he gave himself a headache. That turned out to be a mistake. 

For a split second Dream thought the sun must be shining from behind his head, because that made more sense than what he was actually looking at. But no, the light came from him. His face looked as if it was frozen in the middle of splitting apart, like an overly ripe melon someone had stomped on. Bright white light shone out of the cracks and fissures spread across his skin, fading just below his jaw. Dream’s trembling fingers reached up to feel them. Were they just... glowing scars? That question was answered when, to Dream’s horror, his fingers sunk _inside_ the cracks. 

Dream twisted to the side as the vomit he’d suppressed earlier came back with a vengeance. 

He wiped his face, hand ghosting over the divots in his flesh. He didn’t want to think about how deep they were. Dream just wanted to go home. He stood up on shaky legs, stubbornly avoiding his reflection. It was light again, and he knew he could find the way home even with his suddenly blurry vision. 

Dream desperately tried to ignore the sensation of tears only traveling a short distance before falling inside his cheeks, rather than down them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drista pov: your brother suddenly disappears without a trace for fifteen years before stumbling out of the forest with glowing cracks in his face. wdyd?


	7. Fundy Comes Out (except he’s not Fundy yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short little scene but it shows what Fundy (or Floris) thinks he knows about his parents. Most of which is wrong.

Floris knocked on his father’s door, swallowing nervously as Wilbur called for him to enter. 

“Dad? I— I have something I need to tell you.”

Wilbur looked up from his journal, giving his son his full attention. 

“Is something wrong?”

Floris clutched the hem of his shirt as he took a deep breath. He looked down, unable to meet his father’s eyes if he wasn’t accepting. 

“No. It isn’t. I just— I’m trans.”

“Yes. Floris, right?”

He looked up in shock. 

“What? How—“ Of course. His visions. “You Saw.”

Wilbur smiled, gesturing for his son to sit on the bed beside him. Floris complied, much calmer now that he knew his fears were unfounded. 

“Yes. I knew before you were born. I thought it might be better to let you discover in your own time.”

“Oh. Is that why you never made me wear all those dresses I hated?”

“Well, I wouldn’t force any child of mine to wear clothing they hated. But yes, that’s why I had no expectations for you to be feminine.”

Floris hesitated before asking his next question. He was always curious about his Spirit mother, but he was never sure if his dad actually didn’t mind talking about her or if he simply hid it for Floris’ benefit. It couldn’t have been easy being a mortal in love with a Spirit. 

“Did— did Mom know?”

“I told her we’d have a son. She teased me for having inaccurate predictions when you were born, but I knew you’d prove her wrong.” Wilbur gave him a teasing smile, and Floris grinned back. Everyone knew you didn’t bet against one Gifted by the Wild God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me posting four chapters in one day? And then probably going mia for another week? It’s more likely than you think


	8. Wilbur + Fundy’s Arrival to Dream SMP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t gonna have Floris go by Fundy until much later in the plot but honestly I just don’t like calling him Floris so 🤷

Floris, or Fundy as he’d been going by recently, shuffled a little. Wilbur could tell he was nervous, but too embarrassed to reach out for his father’s hand at the ripe old age of seventeen. He took pity on his son and placed an arm around the boy’s shoulders, letting Fundy pretend he was just putting up with the affection rather than leaning into it. 

“Are you ready? I know it can be a little nerve wracking to move, especially into a pocket realm.” Well, he didn’t know. Wilbur had never really been nervous about anything. It was a bit hard to be anxious about the outcome of events when you were unkillable and could See the future. But Wilbur was bound to a mortal body right now, had been for the past seventeen years, so he would pretend he could not See. 

“I’m not scared.” Fundy said. He was, but it was okay. Wilbur was proud of his son for pushing through it anyway. 

They stepped through the portal together, emerging in the middle of a town. They were on a wooden walkway that extended to the east and west, with a few buildings on either side. Most of the structures weren’t exactly spectacular, but it was still a fairly new realm. Wilbur was curious to see what Dream had planned. Oh he knew some of it, of course, but he had to lock away much of his power in order to pass as a mortal. In this state, Wilbur could only See the impactful events. Anything else he had to specifically seek out. And where was the fun in that? If he was going to pretend to be mortal, he was going to do it properly. 

“Hey! You must be Wilbur and Floris!” They looked down the walkway to see a dark haired man wave as he walked towards them. Wilbur recognized him, it was one of the immortals Claimed by Dream. He couldn’t recall the man’s name though. Not that he’d ever really bothered to learn. 

“I’m Sapnap! Dream isn’t around right now, but you’ll probably meet him tomorrow. I’m the welcome wagon.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sapnap.” Wilbur smiled politely as Fundy gave a little wave. 

“Uh, you can call me Fundy.”

“Alright, Fundy it is. Anyway, why don’t I show you around a little, introduce you to some people.”

They agreed, and Sapnap led them down the walkway. As he acted the tour guide, he didn’t once seem to recognize Wilbur. He wasn’t surprised. Wilbur didn’t interact much with most of the immortals, unless they were ones Claimed by himself. And it was always hard for lesser beings to realize he was the same person if he wasn’t glowing and had no antlers or floating eyes. He supposed it made sense, but it still amused him. He was still the same height, had the same hair and facial features. Then again, not every immortal knew the Gods liked to play at being mortal on occasion. Even some Spirits were ignorant. 

The last stop on the tour was a Church Prime. Wilbur was a bit disappointed Dream had erected no church for him or his brother, but at least there was one for his father. It was a bit odd to not even see a shrine to the Blood God, considering he was the one who Claimed Dream. Perhaps Dream had a private shrine in his house. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Sapnap stopped short suddenly, going quiet for a moment before addressing them. 

“Good news, Dream is here. Looks like you’ll get to meet him today after all.” Fundy gulped nervously, and Sapnap took notice. “Never met a Spirit before?”

“Actually, uh, my mother is a Spirit. I’ve never met her though. So yeah, this will be my first time.”

Sapnap glanced at Wilbur, probably impressed he seduced a Spirit (oh, what an ignorant fool), before turning back to Fundy. 

“It’ll be fine, Dream’s nice. We’re good friends actually, he Claimed me as an immortal a while back.” Fundy perked up, probably bursting with questions now that he knew Sapnap was immortal, but was interrupted by a man in a green hood with a smiley face mask. Dream. 

“Hey, these the new guys?”

“Yeah, this is Wilbur and his son Floris. Or Fundy.”

“Nice to meet you. Welcome to my realm.”

Dream didn’t act any differently when he saw Wilbur, nor when he heard his name, though Wilbur knew the Spirit remembered his true name. Either he was stupid enough not to recognize Wilbur despite having seen the mortal disguise before, or he was smart enough not to give the God away. For Techno’s sake, Wilbur would give Dream the benefit of the doubt. Which meant it would be hilarious to see how far he could push the Spirit before his temper overcame his healthy fear and respect for the Gods.

“Lovely to meet you, Dream. Thank you for allowing us to live in your realm.”

“Of course. Did Sapnap tell you the End is off limits?”

“He mentioned it, yes.”

“Alright, cool. That’s pretty much the only rule. Except, you know, don’t be an asshole.”

Wilbur smiled. He intended to be the biggest asshole he could. 

“No problem.”


	9. Drista’s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got sad and read some Shakespeare so now you get this

Something in the back of Dream’s awareness snapped. He didn’t know why, or how, but he knew that something was wrong and he knew that it involved his sister. He vaguely recalled Techno saying something about sensing if one he had Claimed was in danger, but Dream was too busy rushing to where he had last heard his sister was. Nothing too bad could have happened to her, right? Not since she was Claimed. Dream was no God, he couldn’t make her a Spirit, but he made her an immortal. Surely that would be enough to protect her?

It wasn’t until he arrived in her home to see the spreading pool of blood beneath her pale body that he remembered one crucial detail. Immortals, while impervious to age or disease, could still be laid low by any mortal weapon. 

Dream dropped to his knees, uncaring of the blood soaking into his clothing. With shaking hands, he brushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes were wide and lifeless, staring up at him but seeing nothing. He choked on a sob, removing his mask so that he may better look upon his sister for the last time. He pulled her into his chest with a cry to the heavens. 

Why? Who could do this? She had done no wrong! She was supposed to be the one to stay with Dream, to be by his side no matter how many centuries passed! Maybe not by his side per se but here! Breathing and living and laughing and alive, Gods damn it all, alive! Whatever foul beast, whatever accursed devil had taken his sister from this realm, they would pay. Dream swore, they would pay. 

But how would he even know whom to exact his revenge upon? If they were smart, they were long gone. Wait. Surely, he who could See all that comes to pass would know. Dream bowed his head, sending up a silent prayer. 

_Wilbur_ , he used Wild God’s true name, knowing he must hear him. _I beseech thee. Aid me._

There was a long minute where nothing happened, and Dream despaired, thinking Wilbur would not answer him. Then there was a flash of golden light as Wilbur appeared before him. He had a faint glow about him and his eyes shone with light, as he did not inhabit a mortal body like he had when Dream was still mortal. But he wore his sweater and beanie, so the antlers and floating eyes were not visible. 

“Why have you called upon me, Spirit?”

“My sister has been murdered—“

“Why should I care? Your patron is Blood God. I have no interest in your affairs, certainly not those of my brother’s domain.”

Dream swallowed back a rude retort. He could not fathom how anyone could not care that his sister was dead, but he digressed. Wilbur was a God, and not the most sympathetic one at that. 

“I do not ask you to help me enact my revenge, my lord. I ask only that you show me who it is that has committed this heinous deed.”

Wilbur sighed. 

“I cannot See past events, Dream. From now on, do refrain from calling on me for something so frivolous.”

Frivolous? His sister was _murdered_ and he called it _frivolous_? Dream shook with fury. He knew better than to raise his hand against a God, but his judgement was quickly being overcome by emotion. 

However, before he could do something truly regrettable, someone beat him to the punch. A brawny, red haired man leapt out from the doorway, sword in hand. 

“Spirit Dream and Wild God! I have felled the immortal and now I shall do the same to you!”

Dream snapped his head to the man. So this was the one to whom his sister had fallen victim? He lunged forward with his axe withdrawn but was stopped by an invisible pressure on his limbs. He looked back to see Wilbur, _that fucking asshole_ , restraining him easily with his arm outstretched. The eyes and antlers of his Godly visage glowed in a display of power as he laughed heartily. 

“You think because you have slain a mere immortal with your weapon that you can prevail against a Spirit? Never mind a God? Leave, before the amusement of your actions turns to irritation. Leave now, and you may still live.” 

What? He was going to let the murderer _leave_? No. Absolutely not. Whatever happened here, whatever Wilbur decided, Dream would make sure that bastard died. Preferably in agony. 

“You’re bluffing! My might scares you and so you think to turn me away with fanciful words so that I do not slay you! I shall not be so easily fooled!” 

Wilbur’s smirk left with a sigh at his shouting. 

“I grow weary of this game. For your boldness, I give you one final chance. Retreat, and learn humility before beings superior to yourself.”

“Never!”

The man lunged forward with his sword, but did not make it a single step before disappearing into the ether, a swiftly dissipating curl of smoke all he left behind. Dream stared dumbfounded, his fists suddenly lax in shock. He knew of course that the Gods were powerful, but to erase someone from existence with nary the blink of an eye..?

Wilbur, seemingly unbothered, sniffed haughtily as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. 

“Join us when you’re finished with your little grieving fit. My brother had something he wished to speak with you about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all do you know how hard it is to write about a character you don’t have a name for???


	10. Niki’s Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niki and Wilbur’s relationship owns my whole heart okay?

Niki was not Wilbur’s first love, and certainly not his last, but he often thought she might be the most dear.

They met in a flower field, as Niki was searching for wild honey. He’d thought she was sweet, and had helped her find a beehive. It had taken much longer than strictly necessary, considering Wilbur could sense any creature in his woods if he wanted to, but he hadn’t wanted to stop their stroll through the trees too soon.

Niki was soft, kind, and helpful to everyone she met. But she was by no means weak. She was more than willing to stand up to injustice and fight for what she felt was right, which was what truly piqued Wilbur’s interest. There was nothing special about pacifism from those who were powerless, but there was beauty in someone who chose to be kind despite the ability to do harm.

They had kissed once, long and slow, in that field of flowers. Objectively it had been a good kiss. They were both attractive and youthful (or at least youthful seeming) and certainly had skill. But when they pulled away, they both knew that just wasn’t the type of love they felt for each other. Instead, Niki had leaned back in to kiss Wilbur’s cheek. They smiled, no words needed to understand, and had leaned against each other to watch the sunset.

It had been very easy for Wilbur to decide to Claim her. What gave him pause was the urge to ask her permission first. She was a mortal, insignificant in comparison to one as great as the Wild God, but something inside him cringed at treating her as he tended to treat all other mortals. There was no creature Niki treated as lesser than any other, and Wilbur found himself softening when in her presence. Sometimes, he even caught himself wishing he could still feel that sympathy for mortals that he once had. Niki never judged him though, simply quietly encouraging him to be respectful even if they could do nothing to him. Her genuine smile was always worth it.

Niki was the one who first made Wilbur ask Phil a very important question.

_Phil_ , he had prayed in the soft glow of the fire, careful not to disturb Niki’s gentle slumber as she leaned against him. _Is it possible for you to Claim others as Gods like you did Techno and I?_

It had taken a moment for Phil’s gentle voice to flood Wilbur’s mind. 

_The short answer is yes._

_And the long answer?_

_It takes a certain kind of mortal to survive the process of becoming a Spirit. It is much, much rarer to find one who can become a God. There have only been three since the birth of the realms._

Wilbur’s eyebrows raised in surprise. _Three?_

_The third does not bear mentioning. I did not wish to Claim them._

_I see._

_Why do you ask?_

Wilbur paused in slight embarrassment. _Well. I had hoped you might be able to Claim a mortal. She is very dear to me._

_Oh?_

Wilbur could practically feel his teasing smile. _Shut up. Could you check, just in case?_

_The girl you are currently with? She would not survive. She is capable of becoming a Spirit though._

_Alright. Thanks._

_Of course. So, what’s her name?_

Wilbur’s face flushed. _You already Know, Dad!_

Phil’s laugh echoed in his mind. _But it’s so much more fun to drag it out of you! Do bring her to visit once she’s Claimed. I’m sure your brother would love to meet this mortal who’s captured your attention so._

_Goodbye!_

Phil laughed again, but took mercy on his son and severed their connection. Wilbur sighed, gently brushing Niki’s hair from her face. His best friend (though that had always seemed inadequate to describe his depth of feeling for her) deserved more than just becoming a Spirit. But since that was all he had to offer, Wilbur would ask her permission in the morning. For now, he would bask in the gentle warmth from both the fire and Niki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve got good news! My new phone has a bit more reliable access to the internet. This does not necessarily mean I’ll be writing more, but it _does_ mean I’ll be able to post finished chapters sooner and also respond to comments more quickly!


	11. Nihachu’s Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short thing I wrote after thinking “hey wouldn’t it be funny if Niki just became like.. the godly moral compass?”

“Wilbur, what is this?”

Wilbur froze. He turned around with a too wide smile as Techno and Phil exchanged a glance behind him. 

“Heyyyyy Niki! How are you? It’s been a while!”

“Wil...”

Wilbur cringed, and the other two Gods shuffled awkwardly. Niki had no intrinsic ability of her own, and was in fact fairly weak for a Spirit, having had only just enough divinity to survive being Claimed. There was no reason her presence should make any of the Gods hesitate. But her power didn’t lie in any ability to force the Gods to her will. No, what truly made her powerful was the ability to guilt trip the Gods. 

“Why are you killing them? They didn’t do anything, did they?” The earnestness of her question was what made Wilbur duck his head. 

“Well, not— not really.” Niki’s expression seemed genuinely hurt, and Wilbur released the mortal’s soul on instinct. 

“In our defense,” Techno said hesitantly. “It was pretty funny.”

Niki gasped softly, bringing her hands up to her face. All three of them cursed and released their weapons, Wilbur coming forward to hug her. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t cry, we’ll let them go.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes, I promise.” Wilbur sent his family a pointed look over his shoulder and they sighed. 

“Yeah, fine.”

“Nihachu, they’re mortals, they only have mere decades anyway—“ Phil cut himself off when the girl’s eyes glistened. “But, ah, they can have those decades. Doesn’t really matter.” Fuck, he was God Prime, was he really going to stop his fun because one little Spirit was sad? Yes. Yes, he was. As he and Techno left, Phil sighed internally. Nihachu was almost as bad as Kristen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, just because I haven’t mentioned it anywhere— I do respond to all comments! I live for validation, and this is also low key the only human contact I can have while I’m at the house. I’m happy to answer any (well, most) questions you may have about this AU and I always try to avoid copy and paste responses. 
> 
> Well, unless you’re just gonna comment a heart. It’s still very much appreciated, but all you’re getting in return is an uwu so go ahead if you’re okay with that lol


	12. Banishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually three separate drabbles but since they’re all of the same scene I decided to post them as one chapter. 
> 
> (I low key hate the first one which is why it’s so short)

“Wilbur what’re we gonna do? We— we’ve got nothing!”

“It’s going to be alright, Tommy.”

“Wh—how!?” The child spluttered, but Wilbur could hear the hope in his voice. He trusted Wilbur to save him somehow. Were he a simple mortal, it would have taken a miracle. But Wilbur was no mortal. Had not been since before most Spirits had even been born. 

“I think it’s time you met my brother.” Wilbur could handle this on his own. But he didn’t want to. Rage like he hadn’t felt in centuries boiled beneath his skin, pushing against the flimsy confines of this mortal shell. Technoblade had always been understanding of that rage in a way most weren’t. He was the only one who could help him satisfy it completely. 

“Wait, you have a brother?” Wilbur glanced to Tommy, a cruel smile playing upon his lips. 

“Just you wait. Schlatt isn’t going to know what hit him.”

*******

Wilbur was fine. Wilbur was fine, and calm, and poised, because Wilbur was not just Wilbur. He was the Wild God, and he was above such petty nuisances. No, not nuisance. That implied it bothered him. It wasn’t even a notable event in his long, long existence, and no slimy, deceitful, underhanded, insignificant, little worm of a satyr could make the Wild God angry because it. Did. Not. _Matter_. 

That greasy little mortal wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to smite him. 

He kept telling himself this as he paced in the temporary dirt shelter he and Tommy had made, unable to contain his angry energy. Not only had that pathetic excuse of a mortal exiled them from his own country, but his son, his flesh and blood, had helped run them out. Wilbur would be understanding if he had acted the absentee father— as he often did when he produced a child— but that simply wasn’t the case this time. He had been there for Fundy his entire childhood, from the moment of his birth, caring for the boy as any mortal father would. Wilbur had even been fairly certain he’d Claim Fundy when the time was right. So why would his son betray him in this manner? It made his blood boil. Oh, Wilbur was furious at all his citizens that had stood passively by, but Fundy— Floris, _his son_ — had actively hunted them down. It was that fucking satyr’s fault. That slug of a man who didn’t even deserve a name. 

Wilbur tried to calm himself down, he really did. But there was one thing Wilbur could not deny, and one thing mortals tended to forget. Being the Wild God meant he was the God of all things Wild. Not just trees, and birds, and rivers, and mountains. No, the wilderness was not the only place you could see Wild God’s influence. He was in the eyes of every crazed madman, every good person pushed too far. As often as he was the cause for a peaceful meadow, Wilbur was the cause for an unhinged serial killer. 

The child was scared, but Wilbur knew his brother would respond to his request. It was far from the first time the Blood God and the Wild God had worked together. 

As surely as the sun would rise, that satyr would pay. All those traitors would pay. 

*******

Something was up with Wilbur. 

Okay, maybe that was kind of a stupid thing to think. Of course something was up with him, they’d both just been banished from a country they’d founded. No one would be _okay_ with that. 

But Tommy could Feel that there was something else. Something more dangerous. He’d always been good at knowing what other people were feeling, and Wilbur was furious. A little hurt, Tommy suspected because of Fundy’s betrayal, but mostly it was just this white hot rage. And, don’t tell anybody, but it scared Tommy a little. 

Because Wilbur didn’t get angry. Not really. He might be annoyed, or frustrated, or irritated, but Tommy had never Felt him be truly angry. But now as Wilbur paced in their little hole in the hill, muttering about _that damned satyr_ , Tommy could Feel the rage oozing off of him in tangible, suffocating waves. 

It was almost worse when Wilbur smiled. 

Maybe— maybe it was okay though.

Tommy was scared of this new side of Wilbur, not that he’d admit it, but all the same it was still _Wilbur_. However angry the man was, however surprisingly unsettling, Tommy trusted him. If Wilbur said they were gonna be alright, then Tommy believed him. If Wilbur said this mysterious brother was gonna help them, then Tommy was just excited to meet Wil’s family. If he told Tommy to jump off a bridge, well, Tommy trusted Wilbur to catch him at the bottom. 

He guessed that’s just what happened when you started a drug empire, founded a nation, briefly ran a nation, and were exiled with a man. It was hard to avoid camaraderie with someone you’d been through so much with. 

It definitely wasn’t because Tommy looked up to Wilbur. And it absolutely wasn’t because of the way Wilbur ruffled his hair, joking about him being like a little brother. Tommy had never laid awake at night, wondering what it would be like if he had an older sibling. If that older sibling was Wilbur. He’d certainly never stared at the ceiling, allowing a shy smile to steal over his face in the dark of the night, as he thought about how Wilbur lightly shoved him, equally annoyed and amused. About how, no matter how much he bothered the man, one stupid joke would get him laughing and grabbing Tommy for a headlock, rough and gentle at the same time. And he didn’t keep Wilbur’s spare sweater he’d once thrown at him with a demand to stop bitching about the cold. He didn’t clutch that sweater in the night, soothing the old ache in his chest with the scent of someone safe. 

Tommy would never do something as ridiculous as all that.


	13. uh oh wilbur has Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda feel bad for posting so many short chapters but something short is better than nothing right?
> 
> Also h o l y s h i t OVER TWO HUNDRED KUDOS??? THank you????

Wilbur had been pretty proud of his decision to build a drug empire with the boisterous child. It was something fairly harmless, but incredibly irritating to be happening in your pocket realm. It would be a good starting point for pissing off Dream. He had been right, of course, Wilbur was always right, but something else had happened too. Something that, quite frankly, caught Wilbur completely off guard. 

He started to care for Tommy. And not just in his usual way of finding a mortal a bit entertaining. No, Wilbur realized that if something happened to the child, he— he would be genuinely upset. It wasn’t necessarily unheard of for Wilbur, after all he was the God most likely to have affairs with mortals, but there was something different about this relationship. Wilbur didn’t want to bed Tommy (in fact the thought made him feel a bit sick) and he didn’t see him as a son, either. Tommy was... almost like Technoblade. If Techno were more annoying, and more prone to getting in trouble, and weaker, and younger, and— 

And in need of protecting. 

That was the crux of the matter. Wilbur wanted to protect Tommy. He wanted to keep the mortal safe, to shield him from the dangers of the world. It was a strange feeling for Wilbur. Oh sure, there were plenty of mortals he’d known whom he had preferred alive. But when they inevitably left through injury, disease, or old age, Wilbur had been able to move on easily. Even if he stayed to raise a child, like for Fundy, it was more out of a curiosity for their potential than a genuine need to keep them safe and happy. When Fundy died, Wilbur would feel disappointed, certainly, but he wouldn’t waste time grieving. It’s one of those things Wilbur would’ve felt guilty over many thousands of years ago, but had long since stopped worrying about. 

He supposed that’s how he found himself seceding from Dream’s realm. There was some sort of feud between Tommy and the Spirit which had only been worsened by Wilbur’s interference. So Wilbur would ensure he couldn’t touch the child, even if it meant creating an entirely new country. Not that it was a large feat for a God. No, the miracle was in how Tommy’s exuberant yelling had managed to burrow under Wilbur’s skin in an endearing manner, rather than making him want to vaporize the mortal. He blamed Niki joining L’Manburg, she’d always been able to bring out his more sympathetic side. 

Perhaps Wilbur would have to Claim Tommy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna advertise peeps from discord that write fanfic uwu  
> A lot (if not all) of them write sbi stuff so check them out 
> 
> Mental_Kitten  
> the_beloved_phoenix  
> spooky_royalty  
> CallmeDJ  
> NixQuinnIsRoyalty  
> the_burger_queen  
> TCIXIN  
> PlaZmaVoiD  
> technoapologist  
> neokittenculture  
> Sky the Almighty


	14. Goodbye Sally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur is soft but also manipulative what can ya do

Sally woke up groggily. She wondered for a moment why she felt such exhaustion and pain, before remembering what she’d been doing before she passed out. Of course she was tired after giving birth. She sat up slowly to see Wil sitting by the bed with a bundle of blankets in his arms. Poking out from the blanket were two velvety, pointed ears. 

“Welcome back, love.” Wil looked up at her with a smile which she returned. She opened her mouth, but Wil was already gently handing her the baby before she could voice her request. 

Sally looked down at the tiny little person in her hands. It seemed to be a fox hybrid, which was unusual considering she was a salmon hybrid, but since its father was the Wild God, Sally didn’t question it. It was rather cute. Its tiny little snout twitched, and its eyes were scrunched closed. Its newborn fur was softer than anything she’d ever felt before, and the child snuggled into her hand when she pet its ear. Sally lifted the blanket just to check... huh. When a God who could See all future events said their child was going to be a boy, she’d thought she could believe him. Apparently not. 

“I thought you said we were having a son? Wil, this is a girl. What, did you See someone else’s baby instead?” Sally teased. Wil just smiled his smug I-know-better-than-you smile. Sally shook her head fondly. 

Wil stayed for longer than usual while she recovered, for which she was grateful. Sally knew that the God had other duties, and it just wasn’t in his nature to be tied down to any mortal. She supposed they were similar in that aspect. Sally was a traveler, an adventurer. Ever since she was a child she’d been infected with wanderlust. Even now she was starting to get restless. But... she had an infant now. She couldn’t just leave, could she?

Sally had been thinking on this, a little despondently, when Wil came up to her and took her face in his hands. She smiled at him, expecting a kiss, but instead a jolt of pain traveled down her spine. She gasped, glistening eyes looking into her lover’s unconcerned face. 

“What...?”

“I have Claimed you. You’re an immortal now.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “An immortal? Really?”

“Yes. Leave now. I know you will not be happy as a mother.”

“Leave? I can’t just... abandon our child.”

“I will raise them.” Sally’s already wide eyes widened even further. 

“What?”

“I have not played at being mortal in quite some time.” He smiled slightly, finally breaking up the holier-than-thou blank expression he donned when he was being serious. Sally didn’t see it often, so she was glad to see it crack a little. “Raising children can be fun. Especially when twenty or so years is such a short time.”

“So... I could really continue traveling? But—“

“Sally, my dear. It would be so much better for our child to have an absent mother than one who grows to resent them.”

“Oh.” That... made a lot of sense. “I guess I’ll pack my bags.”

And so, within a few hours, Sally was out the door. She kissed her lover and her child, then walked away without a single glance backwards. 

Wilbur watched with a fond smile on his lips, holding his son (in a few years) as he leaned against the doorway. It was for the best, this way. He had been starting to grow bored of the mortal. But despite never even telling her his full name, he hadn’t relished the thought of completely breaking her heart. That’s why he had asked if she would like to carry his child. This way, she would think it was her decision to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> End notes got fucked up somehow so I’m just adding this in case it fixes the problem. 
> 
> This is only my third work on AO3 I have no idea what I’m doing


End file.
